Out of His Depth
by ThatSassAngel
Summary: I really don't like the title, I need to think of a better one. This takes place before the Reichenback Fall for Sherlock, specifically before he gets 'famous' in RBF. For Doctor Who it's taking place either after The Runaway Bride or after Journey's End. I haven't decided completely for him, but he is slightly sad at some parts and very determined.
1. Chapter 1

**So this is my first Wholock. The first chapter is a little short. Enjoy though.**

"No, no! John just think! Half of the world would be better if people would just _think!_"

Sherlock groaned and fell to the couch, hands flying up in exasperation, than immediantly stood up and walked ou the door of the flat.

"Sherlock you can't go out in public in a bloody towel," John yelled after him. Too lat, the door to the flat slammed shut. Making an effort at this point was useless. Sherlock does as Sherlock does, the number one fact of life. His attention shifted to the new paper on lap, that Sherlock was yelling over.

'Two mysterious murders, looking like serial killings. Both disapeared two weeks ago, turning up yesterday dead.'

Shaking his head, John set the newspaper aside. A shrill ringing filed the air, Sherlock's phone. John ignored it, knowing it was Lestrade again. Sherlock yelled at Lestrade earlier for lack of details about the bodies. Appearently it was disclosed, which slightly offended Sherlock. He refused to work with them.

Sherlock stomped down the street, perfectly aware of the odd stares and yells of people, just choosing to ignore them. It was impossible to work if people didn't think. The case must be bad, there was no other reason to withhold evidence from the only one capable of solving it. He was trying to make a point.

"Sherlock!" A voice called out next to him. Choosing to ignore it, with a slight eye roll, he quickened his pace.

"Sherlock you can't do this. People are phoning to complain about it."

Sherlock didn't even look towards Lestrade, who was attempting to get his attention.

"We need your help, but we can not tell you much this moment. It's even withheld from us."

Fed up, Sherlock looked for a way to avoid Lestrade. Looking ahead he saw a blue police box, almost laughing at the irony. Even though police boxes were outdated and not seen too much Sherlock didn't think twice about using it to hide. Maybe he'd call John and have him drop off some clothes. Sherlock opened the door, and stepped inside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Still kind of short. Chapter 3 is longer**

The Doctor quickly danced around the console, pushing different buttons and pulling levers. Tracking this alien was tough, because it covered it's tracks well. The console make a beeping noise then a red blinking light started to flash, notifying it had locked onto something. Gleefully the Doctor checked it, but before the TARDIS could leave the red blinking light stopped, losing the track.

"No! Come on girl, hold onto it."

Spinning around and pushing more buttons didn't help. The TARDIS had lost the signal of the crafty alien. Frustrated the Doctor stepped back and ran his hands through his messy, spiky hair.

He kicked the console and recoiled when the pain of kicking solid metal shot through his foot.

"Ow," he muttered.

While standing there by the console, completely out of ideas, the door creaked open. The tall, skinny man twirled around, his attention moving from the TARDIS to the man in the towel that stood in the doorway of his ship.

"What!" He exclaimed, moving closer.

"That door was locked, how did you get in here?" The Doctor inquired.

The man in the doorway looked around.

"Hmm. I would have though these would be a tad smaller on the inside. Maybe more blue. And yes, you did leave the door unlocked in your rush to track something. You're not from around here, also way older than you look. You're also stressed about something, and you've recently lost someone important. Plus-"

"Down that hallway and to the right there is a wardrobe. Put your clothes on and then we can talk."

"If I refuse?"

"Then i'll kick you back on the street to deal with whoever you're avoiding. My ship."

The guy in the doorway's eyes drifted toward the door for a second then he sighed. "Fine," he grunted and stomped off.

The Doctor went back to the console, muttering under his breath.

Sherlock was frustrated because he didn't do too well being ordered around. In fact, Sherlock would have kept arguing except he didn't want to be kicked out of the street back to dealing with Lestrade and the rest of the annoying human population.

Sherlock made it to the wardrobe. Frowning, he plucked out many different outfits. A clown suit, a jogging suit, a bunch of long coats, and a hula skirt later he decided on a regular suit. Continuing to the main room where the skinny man was waiting for him, he noticed that the man's attention wasn't even on his guest.

"Name?" The man asked without turning from the found thing with all the blinking buttons.

"Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock stated casually, as if the entire situation bored him.

"Ah hello Mr. Holmes! Big fan of you, the famous amateur detective . I'm the Doctor by the way, nice to meet you!"

"A Doctor is not a name, but an earned title. You're not even in the medical studies. Also I'm not famous, fame bores me."

"I was actually slight hoping that you would ask 'Doctor Who?" He mumbled. "It's not a Doctor, is THE Doctor. It is my name. I think. You are plenty famous, or infamous whatever you want." Sherlock still had a slight confused expression at the famous part. The Doctor worridly glanced at the console. "Oops, too soon."

"I'm going to choose to ignore that. The Doctor is not a name it is a title that you earn with a doctorate, which I doubt you have."

The Doctor looked insulted. "I have doctorate in many things!"

"Like what?" Sherlock countered.

The Doctor looked thoughtful for a moment. "Later, right now we need to track down this alien."

"We? Alien? I could care less about a stupid alien."

"You're not going to help? We could travel anywhere you want after this. The case of a life time."

"Sorry Doctor, not interested."

"But it's the universe!"

"I don't care, now excuse me I have a case to work on."

With that, Sherlock turned on his heal and walked out the door.

_Well that was... Interesting _Thought the Doctor

Going back to the console to try to track down the alien, it still couldn't get a signal. The console recieved a hefty kick, which didn't help the singal. There was an alien out therer targetting humans and for the first time the Doctor was stuck. This time the Doctor needed help, but the help he needed rufused.


	3. Chapter 3

**Longer than the last one. I'll stop with these author's notes eventually.**

"The cause of death was not by injury. None of them are life threatening. Interestingly though, both bodies were found in the exact same state. The cuts are in the exact same place; on the forehead, shoulder, and the stomach. Same depth and location on each body. Poison didn't kill them either, so you can kill that assumption," Sherlock paused for a second, "Bad choice of words."

Lestrade had finally let Sherlock see the bodies of the two victims. He was like a kid at Christmas, going to town with his deductions. He was obviously waiting for someone to tell him to explain, you could see the impatience growing on his face. Even though it was only a couple seconds he was annoyed that nobody would motion him to explain his theories, so he went ahead.

"It's not poison because the blood is completely gone from the body. There is no reason to drain a body completely of blood if you're not going to use it. Poison would have tainted the blood, unless it was a slow acting one that washed completely out of the blood. There is also no sign of any injection, unless they injected it into the open wounds. Even then there would be some trace of it around the wounds. Draining of the blood was not the cause of death either. The blood was taking out seemingly by keeping the small wounds open. These wounds were made after the victim was dead."

Sherlock turned the body over, he had just been looking at the front. He felt over the back of the person and a slight smile appeared on his face when he found something.

"Right here. There is a gap at the top of the spine were it connects to the skull. I'm almost positive it's clean cut because there are no rough edges. Mind if I take a closer look Lestrade?"

Not even waiting for Lestrade's permission he carefully made an incision. Getting a closer look, he saw he was right.

"Clean cut made with some kind of machine, but what can do something like that without breaking the skin? John look at the other one."

John moved over to the other body and flipping it on it's stomach. He felt at the top of the spine.

"I feel a gap, so yes it is the same. No marks at all in that area. How is this possible Sherlock?"

Sherlock's eyes flashed with curiosity and excitement, practically jumped up and down at this point.

"A mystery John!" He exclaimed and started rushing around. The crazy, self proclaimed sociopath had a wide grin on his face. He rushed past Molly as if she wasn't there and grabbed his coat. A phone went off. Lestrade grinned sheepishly and pulled it out of his pocket.

"Hello?" He asked the phone.  
A couple seconds passed and his faced dropped.  
"Alright, be right there."

It didn't seem possible, but Sherlock's face filled with even more delight. "Another one! What are we waiting for?" He took off up the hospital stairs, John and Lestrade trudging behind him.

"Exact same injuries and cause of death. Defiantly a machine made sever, but what could do this without cutting the skin!"

Sherlock'a head snapped away from the body to look at an approaching digure. It was the thing man with the crazy hair who called himself the 'Doctor'. He was wearing a long brown trench coat and under it was a brown pinstripe suite. On his feet where white trainers.

"Ello!" The Doctor called out when he stopped near the group surrounding the body.

"Who are you, and who let you in?" Lestrade demanded, getting frustrated about the case.

"Someone you need and lovely Sergent Donovan let me in."

Sherlock laughed. Lovely? Annoying defiantly, but sure as hell not lovely.

"Do you have credentials?" Lestrade inquired.

The Doctor nodded and pulled out a wallet, flipped it open, and showed the group his 'credentials'.

"It's blank," Sherlock stated in his monotone voice.

"No it's not? See it says-" Lestrade started, looking closely at the paper.

"You idiot, just look. It. Is. Blank." Sherlock spat, they needed to focus on the case at hand.

"Smart than. Alright let's have a look." The Doctor moved closer to the body.

Sherlock rattled off his deduction statement, John and Lestrade reading to cut in if he started to be rude. Surprisingly he just rambled off his deduction without saying anything rude. Yet.

"I'm here to find the murder, the background information is useless." The Doctor was obviously annoyed with Sherlock thinking he was all big and bad here.

"I can fully assure you that-" Sherlock started before being cut off by John.

"Why are you here?"

"Because you need me." The Doctor looked worriedly at the body, different ideas of what could of done it bouncing around in his head.

Sherlock snorted. "Need you? They have me, which is always enough."

John and Lestrade sucked in a sharp breath. Here it comes.

"You are very modest, but you are in far over your head. This is something you're not used to. You will not figure it out without my help and I can't without yours. I can promise you, Mr. Holmes, that you need me. Is that clear?"

The way that the Doctor spoke was very calm, very serious, and slightly threatening, which made it sound almost a little scary.

Sherlock stood up and brushed himself off.

"I'm not interested in a partnership with you. Goodbye again, Doctor." Sherlock quickly flashed a forced smile, then walked off.

"Sherlock!" John called. "Sherlock, we should trust this guy if he says we need him."

Too late, Sherlock was already out of earshot. John groaned, his flatmate could be so annoying when he acted like he was above the world. Though neither of them probably had a good approach to each other.

"I think he's jealous because now he's not the only one with the messy haircut." Lestrade joked.

"The cause of death was not by injury. None of them are life threatening. Interestingly though, both bodies were found in the exact same state. The cuts are in the exact same place; on the forehead, shoulder, and the stomach. Same depth and location on each body. Poison didn't kill them either, so you can kill that assumption," Sherlock paused for a second, "Bad choice of words."

Lestrade had finally let Sherlock see the bodies of the two victims. He was like a kid at Christmas, going to town with his deductions. He was obviously waiting for someone to tell him to explain, you could see the impatience growing on his face. Even though it was only a couple seconds he was annoyed that nobody would motion him to explain his theories, so he went ahead.

"It's not poison because the blood is completely gone from the body. There is no reason to drain a body completely of blood if you're not going to use it. Poison would have tainted the blood, unless it was a slow acting one that washed completely out of the blood. There is also no sign of any injection, unless they injected it into the open wounds. Even then there would be some trace of it around the wounds. Draining of the blood was not the cause of death either. The blood was taking out seemingly by keeping the small wounds open. These wounds were made after the victim was dead."

Sherlock turned the body over, he had just been looking at the front. He felt over the back of the person and a slight smile appeared on his face when he found something.

"Right here. There is a gap at the top of the spine were it connects to the skull. I'm almost positive it's clean cut because there are no rough edges. Mind if I take a closer look Lestrade?"

Not even waiting for Lestrade's permission he carefully made an incision. Getting a closer look, he saw he was right.

"Clean cut made with some kind of machine, but what can do something like that without breaking the skin? John look at the other one."

John moved over to the other body and flipping it on it's stomach. He felt at the top of the spine.

"I feel a gap, so yes it is the same. No marks at all in that area. How is this possible Sherlock?"

Sherlock's eyes flashed with curiosity and excitement, practically jumped up and down at this point.

"A mystery John!" He exclaimed and started rushing around. The crazy, self proclaimed sociopath had a wide grin on his face. He rushed past Molly as if she wasn't there and grabbed his coat. A phone went off. Lestrade grinned sheepishly and pulled it out of his pocket.

"Hello?" He asked the phone.  
A couple seconds passed and his faced dropped.  
"Alright, be right there."

It didn't seem possible, but Sherlock's face filled with even more delight. "Another one! What are we waiting for?" He took off up the hospital stairs, John and Lestrade trudging behind him.

"Exact same injuries and cause of death. Defiantly a machine made sever, but what could do this without cutting the skin!"

Sherlock'a head snapped away from the body to look at an approaching digure. It was the thing man with the crazy hair who called himself the 'Doctor'. He was wearing a long brown trench coat and under it was a brown pinstripe suite. On his feet where white trainers.

"Ello!" The Doctor called out when he stopped near the group surrounding the body.

"Who are you, and who let you in?" Lestrade demanded, getting frustrated about the case.

"Someone you need and lovely Sergent Donovan let me in."

Sherlock laughed. Lovely? Annoying defiantly, but sure as hell not lovely.

"Do you have credentials?" Lestrade inquired.

The Doctor nodded and pulled out a wallet, flipped it open, and showed the group his 'credentials'.

"It's blank," Sherlock stated in his monotone voice.

"No it's not? See it says-" Lestrade started, looking closely at the paper.

"You idiot, just look. It. Is. Blank." Sherlock spat, they needed to focus on the case at hand.

"Smart than. Alright let's have a look." The Doctor moved closer to the body.

Sherlock rattled off his deduction statement, John and Lestrade reading to cut in if he started to be rude. Surprisingly he just rambled off his deduction without saying anything rude. Yet.

"I'm here to find the murder, the background information is useless." The Doctor was obviously annoyed with Sherlock thinking he was all big and bad here.

"I can fully assure you that-" Sherlock started before being cut off by John.

"Why are you here?"

"Because you need me." The Doctor looked worriedly at the body, different ideas of what could of done it bouncing around in his head.

Sherlock snorted. "Need you? They have me, which is always enough."

John and Lestrade sucked in a sharp breath. Here it comes.

"You are very modest, but you are in far over your head. This is something you're not used to. You will not figure it out without my help and I can't without yours. I can promise you, Mr. Holmes, that you need me. Is that clear?"

The way that the Doctor spoke was very calm, very serious, and slightly threatening, which made it sound almost a little scary.

Sherlock stood up and brushed himself off.

"I'm not interested in a partnership with you. Goodbye again, Doctor." Sherlock quickly flashed a forced smile, then walked off.

"Sherlock!" John called. "Sherlock, we should trust this guy if he says we need him."

Too late, Sherlock was already out of earshot. John groaned, his flatmate could be so annoying when he acted like he was above the world. Though neither of them probably had a good approach to each other.

"I think he's jealous because now he's not the only one with the messy haircut." Lestrade joked.


End file.
